


Hardcore (Softcore)

by brokenmemento



Category: Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: 5+1 Things, BDSM, Consensual Kink, F/F, Falling In Love, Mild Angst, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, season 1-cannon divergence, season 2-cannon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenmemento/pseuds/brokenmemento
Summary: What if Harley and Ivy had started something on the heels of Harley ending things with the Joker? What if it began as not much of anything and morphed into everything?ORA cannon rewrite of season 1 and 2
Relationships: Pamela Isley & Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn
Comments: 28
Kudos: 146





	1. Initiation+Round 1

**Author's Note:**

> *This is probably some of the most off-center stuff I've ever written, but I loved the "Sunstone" series by Sejic and pondered a little too hard on his comment about how easy it would be to do a similar style with Harley and Ivy. So I did it for him since he isn't ever going to. Also, you don’t have to read that comic to necessarily understand this. Maybe Google a few pages for tone though.
> 
> **I debated on naming this "Harley and Ivy Watch a Porno" for poops and giggles but I didn't. You're welcome.

It materializes out of nothing. 

Well, no, that’s not a fair assessment. It comes to be after a lot of history but zero provocation. When they’re both in a type of limbo. 

Harley has just come from a breakup of epic proportions and is trying to find herself. Ivy is trying not to lose herself in the chaotic mess that inevitably follows her best friend everywhere. 

The space she’s made her own has always felt like enough but with Harley inside of it now, rooms are uncharacteristically full and chock with sound. Needless to say, it takes some getting used to. Which is probably why in this world of limbo, _it_ is born. 

Ivy walks in one evening with Harley lounging on the couch. The tv screen flickers and the rest of the apartment is dark. Instead of bidding her friend goodnight and leaving, she makes a choice that sets everything into motion: she joins Harley on the sofa. 

By the time they’re both staring at the screen, it’s changed at least three times. Just as it seems like Harley’s attention lands on something, the channel blanks out and something new appears. 

“What are you doing?” Ivy exclaims after Harley removes it from a rerun of _Planet Earth._

“Oh, this? I watch five minutes of a show or whatever and then on to the next thing.”

If Ivy had time to psychoanalyze that, she would. If she had a doctorate in psychiatry, she would. But for the night, she lets it go and leans back into the furniture. 

“So basically, you are utilizing the attention span of every toddler. Solid way to spend a Saturday.” Ivy says nothing when the channel jumps again. 

That’s because her mouth has forgotten to work. Harley does it for her. 

“Holy shit,” she breathes. 

In HDTV, right there for any and all to see, shining brightly into Ivy’s living room is a porno. Every sight and sound is in full force and Ivy brings a hand up to her mouth to cover any sound that might escape. (She really didn’t have to worry though. The shock robs her of it)

There’s a lot of stuff going on that Ivy is only vaguely familiar with and she finds sweat beginning to bead at a lot of pores. 

Ivy is no prude. In fact, far from it. She’s had sex, done her fair share of things. But this little piece of filmography is outside of her purview. 

“Kinky,” Harley mutters. Ivy tries not to notice the way her friend has shifted several times since it’s been on this particular channel.

“Must be one of those free weekend things,” she tries for some sort of explanation as to why this would ever be on a television she owns. “Hopefully the kids of America are asleep.”

“Yeah, right. I bet half of the viewership right now are teenage boys spankin’ it to this,” Harley retorts. 

“Gah, Harley. Don’t give me that mental image. I already have too many floating around because of this,” she points. 

Silence envelopes. Well, as much as it can be when raspy breathing is trying to be ignored completely. Now it’s Ivy’s turn to shift uncomfortably. 

“You ever do anything like that?” Harley turns suddenly, looking at her straight on. 

“Wha? No, I’m not talking to you about any of this. Or that.”

“So that’s a no,” Harley smirks. 

Ivy's face runs hot. “Oh, and like you have.”

“If I had, it wouldn’t be a big deal! I’d tell you about it. You’re my best friend!” Harley waves an arm around. “I mean, I think it looks a bit interesting.”

Ivy swallows her own tongue. Everything is thick. The air, the saliva in her throat, the tension that needs a damn knife to cut it. _This isn’t what we do..._

“That, all of it, is just...a lot. It would require total trust in someone, total dedication,” Ivy tries to explain. 

“So you’re telling me you’ve never tied anyone up with your vines?” Harley grins but Ivy shoots her a death glare. She pulls her knees to her chest and scoots closer. “Maybe it’s just about havin’ the right partner.”

“Why, you have someone lying around that you just happen to be able to put your full faith in and that you’d feel comfortable enough to do that with?” It’s meant as a jest. A rant. Both of those things together, a thing never meant to be answered. 

_Also known as_ : rhetorical question. So of course, it gets answered. 

“I have you.” It’s whispered quietly, but Ivy hears it like it’s spoken through a megaphone. 

Ivy dares to look over at her, to meet the blue eyes turned to focus on her. “Not to try something like that.” She says it to convince herself it’s the answer. 

Harley turns back to the tv and the quiet comes again. If Ivy were in a normal flesh tone, she would be fifty shades of red. Because _okay_ , it’s kind of hot what’s happening on screen. She’s not _dead_ , so effects...occur. 

That’s when _it_ all hits. 

“What if you and I tried something like that? You know, together.” Harley turns again and her face is as serious as Ivy has ever seen it. What she’s asking is real. 

“The domme and the sub thing,” Ivy clarifies with a cotton mouth. Harley nods. “BDSM. Uh, who would be which?”

Harley smirks. “Ive, I think we both know which way that would go.”

Ivy opens and closes her mouth several times. “I don’t have a frame of reference for this other than fifteen incredibly awkward as fuck minutes watching this with you and some basic intro level idea of what it even entails.”

“We’re both intelligent women. I’m sure we could figure it all out. Research, workshop ideas.”

Ivy can’t take it anymore. She’s going to come apart. She rests a hand against her forehead, rubs hard to make sure real life is still happening and she hasn't slipped into some weird dream. 

“Where is this coming from? And why me, of all people? You could easily find someone to pursue this with,” Ivy tries. She’s becoming so lost. Exactly what she’s feared. 

Harley reaches for her hand but suddenly, even touching her skin in this way is almost too much. Ivy bites her lip roughly.

“You said it yourself, this would be the ultimate exercise in trust and I trust you more than anyone in my life. As for where this is coming from…” she shrugs, sighs. “I’ve been treated a certain way for a very long time and I’d like to maybe have some good memories to erase the bad ones.”

Ivy sits drowning in her own body. “If we do this, it’s going to change things. I mean, that? No one comes out the same.”

“It only changes us if we let it. We are two consenting adults without partners, probably for the foreseeable future. I’ve known you for years, Ive. Being with you seems infinitely better than takin’ care of myself every night from now until forever.”

“Every night?” Ivy squeaks. Yeah, actually fucking squeaks. 

“Well, no. Not every night. Say we agree to give this a shot. Today’s Friday…”

“It’s Saturday actually.”

“Whatever. Maybe we could take the week to research, and by ‘we’, I really mean you since you would be takin’ on the domme role. And then we could meet here, same place, same time, same day in a week?” Harley suggests. 

A week. 7 days. 168 hours to plan on how to dominate her best friend sexually. 

“You truly want this, with me?” Ivy asks sheepishly. 

The screen reminds them of what they’re heading toward. Harley lets out a groan, Ivy has to press her thighs together. 

“Geez, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

-—-//——

_Round 1:_

I avoid her almost the whole fucking week. Because I’m scared shitless. Because I’m actually researching how to do what I’ve agreed to. Because with every minute that passes, I’m that much closer to having sex with my best friend. 

Did plants matter at one point? Is that what I was doing before Harley opened her mouth and staggered me? 

I spend too much time online, surfing web pages. Articles, books, videos—I ingest it all so that on Saturday, I don’t look like a fool. I do it because some dark and feral part of me really _wants_ this. And I want to do it well. 

My face can’t get it together enough to walk into the shop downtown in broad daylight, so I sneak in one night. When I stand in the middle of the room looking at it all, I feel my knees buckle a bit. It’s so overwhelming that I don’t know where to start. 

As if on autopilot, I move through the place. I grab at things from within the recesses of the muscle memory of my brain. Most of it, I can’t even look at. It goes straight into the duffle on my shoulder. 

It’s the last thing I pick up before I leave. 

Before I do, I stand and stare at it awhile. I gnaw at my thumbnail before finally throwing all caution to the wind and toss it on top of the other things I’ve swiped. 

All the way back to my apartment, the weight of what I carry makes my skin flush. Incomprehensibly, inexplicably, a smile curls my lips. 

******************

I’m in my room at 11. There’s practically a road paved in my carpet from all the pacing I’ve been doing, so I try to smooth it out with my bare foot before making my way to the door when I hear the knock. 

I feel stupid answering it in a robe, especially given what’s about to take place, but when I open it and Harley has done the same, some of the tension leaves my body. Some.

“Hey,” I lean against the door, blocking her from coming in. 

“I got your text. Did exactly as you asked,” Harley kicks a bare leg up, ruffling her robe a bit in the process. 

“Right, yeah. Of course.” I stop, clearly fidgeting. Looking up to the ceiling, I sigh heavily. “Before we...start, I just want to make sure again. You want this, right? We can always just, forget it or something if you’re uncomfortable.”

Her hand touches my shoulder softly. I can feel it burn through the silk. “Ive, I haven’t been able to think about anything else all fuckin’ week.”

Okay, then. 

“Uh, alright,” I nod. The pocket of my robe suddenly feels very heavy and I’m nervous as fuck for this next step. “All week, I read up. Studied. One thing that sort of struck me was the idea of this.” I reach into my pocket and pull it out. 

The last thing I took. 

It’s made of soft but thick leather. The width is about half an inch wide and its sleek black shine is like a damn lightbulb to me. I run my fingers over it and try to find the right thing to say. 

“It’s a symbol—of us really. You’ll wear it when we have our...sessions. It designates your compliance and willingness to assume the submissive role in our arrangement.” Every word I say pools at my thighs. 

I chance a look up and see Harley looking rather frayed. To put it mildly. “Yes,” she rasps out. 

I start to hand it to her, to let her be the one to put it on and make the choice for herself. But something in me already feels the tug of control rearing its head. _I_ want to be the one to do it. 

“Can I? Please.” It’s the last request I’ll make once we take up our respective mantles. After this, she will be at my command. And that thought both excites and terrifies me. 

Harley turns around and I gently wrap it around her pale neck, letting my fingers brush against her skin as I fasten the clasp at the back. When she turns around, I feel like I’m going to pass out. 

“Shall we begin, Mistress?” She raises an eyebrow. 

I reach out and yank her lightly by the collar. Closing the door a little too roughly, we are now in my room. I feel the need to apologize but have to stop myself: _Would a domme say they’re sorry?_

I’m so beyond nervous but somehow, I manage to scrabble enough thought together to do something other than stand. 

I reach for the tie of my robe and undo it. The sides part and I reveal what I’ve chosen as the attire of the night: Not much of anything. Other than a pair of intricately laced panties on my hips, I’ve left my breasts free. I put my hands on my hips and keep the robe parted behind them. 

Somehow, I also manage to add words to action. I tell Harley exactly where I want her, I tell her exactly what I plan to do. 

It’s nothing too untoward, an entry level action into this world we are plunging ourselves into. I give her what she probably expects of me because of who I am. Before they come to bind her hands out to her sides, I let her know my vines will be assisting me tonight. 

I take my time. I don’t rush or push past the boundary of simplistic and mostly tame. Sure, she’s bound, but it’s fairly standard as far as sexual kinks go. 

But _shit,_ does it work. 

I fumble a few times, short circuit some others. Harley says nothing, wonderfully submitting to whatever I bid, whatever I control. It all works, maybe not beautifully, but we’re both a mess as things progress. I just have to hold mine close to the vest. 

I’ll spare the details of the end. There are only so many ways to explain the hurdling of something, of falling off a cliff. The words don’t do the action justice anyway, not when Harley’s face as it happens is seriously everything. 

When my vines retreat, we lay spent against each other. I wonder if my poor babies feel the same way I do. 

I should have known the two of us would be magic together. The foresight never arrived within me to see it though. As I raise up onto my elbows to look at her underneath me, my attention is drawn back to the black band around her neck. I touch it again and close my eyes. 

*****************

I’d said she only had to wear it when we were together.

  
She wears it _everywhere._


	2. Round 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley's point of view for round two

_ Round 2:  _

I wish I could say our next session came quickly, but it did not. With everything that had happened to me over the last coupla months, I was still feelin’ out who I was on my own. Only I’d somehow managed to bring Ivy along with me on that journey. 

No matter how many times I tried to update my look or test out being really bad around Gotham, I would feel the leather against my throat and be reminded of who was helping to mold the new and improved me. Even though I could never admit it to another soul, Ivy was there in the background. 

She’s how I got my ultimate final look, away from the trashy jester I’d been playing for years. He had wanted me to cover up. She had given me the freedom to show off a lot of things. 

The second time I showed up to her door, my body was on edge everywhere. Underneath my red robe, I’d put on the outfit she’d ordered. In a moment where she was just Ivy and I was just Harley, not her my mistress and me her sub, we’d picked it out together to use one night. 

After the selection, we’d both been beaming. I tried to prod her for what she might be choosing but she declined to say, only smiling broadly. 

It was infectious. I’d never seen her like that, so open and carefree. When the laptop screen had read  _ purchase complete,  _ she’d stood quickly and brought me into her body. 

We shared our first kiss after shopping for our domme and sub outfits. It had wonderfully taken my breath away. After, Ivy had pulled back and offered me a small smile, asked if I was okay waiting until the items arrived before we scheduled another session. 

I agreed but awaited with bated breath for the mail every day. Two large boxes arrived eight days later and she’d handed one to me.  _ Tomorrow _ had been the promise. I had eagerly agreed.

Standing at her door again, I’d been reminded of the events leading up to this. The outfit we’d selected was perfect. I just hoped she would like it as much as I liked putting it on for her. And I couldn’t wait to see what she had chosen. 

Ivy was in her same silk robe from almost two weeks ago. She’d motioned me in and closed the door with more ease this time. I could tell she had more confidence in her step. The first time jitters were abating. 

“So, let me see what we’ve chosen in the flesh now,” she’d commanded and I was immediately at her behest. 

Bowing my head, I’d thrown back my red satin robe to show her our outfit. 

The bodice was similar to a corset, form-fitting across my torso. It tapered down to my hips where garter straps dangled to hold up the blood-red stockings I’d chosen. The bodice went to just underneath my chest, but the fabric was missing there, instead a layer of underwire to help scoop my breasts up against the edge of it. A halter neckline rounded out the top portion. I had chosen to forgo the addition of panties, leaving that area completely bare. 

I desperately wanted Ive to say something, to tell me how I looked, but we were in the bedroom now and our roles had begun. I had to flit back to that gorgeous grin she had given me over the laptop, the way she’d kissed me after we ordered. 

What I got was in true domme fashion. Ivy only quirked an eyebrow and then threw her robe off with a flourish. 

“Wow.” It had escaped before I knew it but I couldn’t help it. 

Not that I wasn’t allowed to speak during our sessions but it was usually reserved for things like our safe word. ("Mallet." It was "mallet". She’d scoffed but let me keep it)

To no one's surprise, her outfit was green with a bit of black mixed in. (Domme and all) It had a cross-hatched band that wrapped around her neck, sheer black sleeves going down to her wrists. Like mine, the chest area had open cups and below that, a metallic green looking strip of leather that spanned her belly button area. Her sides and hips were more see-through black. The part that about undid me? While I had said screw panties, her ensemble was missing the crotch completely. I could see a wisping between her thighs and had to clench everything. 

The green leather lace-up boots on her long legs were already an added bonus but when she sauntered to her bedside table and put on her black-framed glasses I’d only seen her wear maybe one fucking time, I fell to my damn knees. 

She’d looked down on me then, peering over her frames with a wicked grin on her face. 

_ That’s your best friend up there! That’s still Ivy!  _

Very hard to remember as she shoved my face to her boot and I ran my tongue across its emerald surface. She allowed me one swipe of something better (the missing parts of her suit were so damn rad) before I was yanked back and my eyes were taken away. 

I felt her standing behind me, the leather of her boots touching my legs and calves. The world was dark though because I was wearing a blindfold then. No sooner than she did that, my wrists were bound behind my back too. 

“Now stand up. I’m going to lead you to the bed and you’re going to sit on your knees,” she’d whispered hotly in my ear while I worked to stand. “When you’re on the bed, I’m going to be behind you again. You will submit to whatever I say.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I agreed quickly. The more I said it, the less creepy it was to be referring to my best friend that way and instead, it became an absolute super soaker.

If I thought Ivy had been wonderful before, she shot me to the damn stratosphere that night. 

She was so in control and everything she did felt like a blaze of glory and desire all rolled up into one. It was so hard not to scream her name when I reached my peak (I’ve learned to staunch it now), but that time I almost did and she had to cover my mouth to drown it out. 

Watching her finish off herself was probably the highlight of my life up until that point. 

As she lay asleep beside me, wrecked in the aftermath, I let myself roll in the happiness she was bringing to my life in such a different way than how she’d always done. I’d bit my lip, covered my eyes with my arm, and internally screamed with joy. 

Ivy, my awesomely amazing and ride or die Ivy, was still my best friend in the world. With her, I felt like we could conquer anything (each other included). 

That happiness kept me floating every day. 


	3. Round 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy catches feelings.

_Round 3_ : 

The ease at which we settle into everything, both in our friendship and our expanding bedroom life is surprising. Especially since I’d been worried about losing her friendship if we began something raw and physical like we have. 

But we are still us. That feels really good. Whether it’s sitting on the couch or murdering a group of investment bankers, we have fun. It’s like it always has been. 

(Except for the sex)

But with each session, I have grown bolder. More willing to try things that had scared me that night while we watched the porno film. By the third session, I am ready to venture into the duffle I have mostly left alone since I brought it home. 

In the planning stages, I retreat to my room and take another look. I brainstorm some things we can do the next time we play. Ultimately I choose three items and move them from the recesses of the duffle to the nightstand beside my bed. (All but one actually. It goes underneath the mattress because it won’t fit in a drawer)

On second thought, I go retrieve one in the nightstand and open the camera app on my phone. I put the rope around my wrists a little and grip part of it between my teeth. What’s reflected back on the screen is hedonistic but when I think about what I’m going to do to Harley with it, I bypass any and all shame. 

Harley has a crew now. A mismatched group of eclectic and oddball characters—plus one fucking troll—so she’s doing her own thing more and more. 

Which is healthy! It’s what I’ve wanted for her for...forever. Even though I’d refused to do a team up with her, I still feel a small prickle of loneliness. Because, yeah, I miss her. 

But I’m there in spirit, so to speak. She still insists on wearing her collar everywhere (mine, mine, _mine_ ), and her new look sort of resembles the outfit I’d bought her for our last session. It’s little things like that that make not being with her as much bearable. 

I snap a picture and send it on its way, seconds later a text to go with it. _Tonight?_ it says. Hopeful, anticipatory. I shouldn’t feel like I need this so fucking bad but after two times, I’m already hooked. I _crave_ her. 

The answer is almost instantaneous. I have to will myself to keep my hand away. She’s agreed to tonight. This desire will have an outlet soon. 

**************

We agreed to use our outfits from last time again, so I answer my door wearing it. No part embarrassed or ashamed anymore. In fact, I practically preen in it under her lust-filled gaze. 

“Ive, you look amazing. Like always,” Harley smiles. 

“The outfits were good choices,” I agree with a grin. Enough of the small talk. “You ready?”

“Gah, I thought you’d never ask.”

As soon as she walks into my room, I bid her to strip her robe and I begin to tie her hands in a tight knot. Tonight, I let her keep them in front of her though. With the excess, I pull her along to the bed, motioning for her to get on it. 

Once she settles on her knees, now our default starting position, I join her and spin her to where she is facing the curled vine headboard and I wrap the top securely around it. 

Backing away, I can’t resist her smell or another second without touching her. My domme persona falters a little so in order to rein it back in, I press my fingers into her throat, tilting her chin up and running my nose through her blonde hair (she leaves it down. I always make her wear it like that during a session) 

I catch sight of us in the mirror on my dresser that sits to the right. _Oh,_ what a sight to behold it is. Something impish in me flares. 

“Well, will you look at us, Harls. Here you are on your knees for me and I’m about to exact a little punishment for you staying gone so much of the time lately.” 

“Mistress, I swear. You’re constantly in my thoughts, no matter what I do. Are you sure I really need it?” Harley whimpers. 

“Thinking about me and being with me are two very different things,” I reply, reaching under the mattress and withdrawing what I hid earlier: the flogger. I give her a split second to see it with her widened eyes before I forcefully shove her head down between her shoulders and bound hands, pushing her hip backward with another so that her ass sticks out. “Now how many do you think you’ve _earned_?” 

I look in the mirror at us now. I almost come on sight. Thankfully, her answer keeps me grounded— “Twenty,” and then I begin. 

By the end of it, she’s writhing and mewling underneath me and I smooth a hand over the developing redness before flipping her and making her lie back. 

“Last adventure for tonight,” I say with a hint of foreboding in my tone. “But this one is going to get a bit rough.” I lean over and withdraw the clamps, the chain connected to them. She actually cries out and I have to get a hold on myself again. “Think you can hang on long enough for the final act?” 

“Yes, Mistress.”

It’s a challenge she doesn’t much look up to completing as I get her set up. By the time the accessory is done, I can hardly stand it. I lean forward and roughly capture her lips with mine. The more seconds that go by, the more I slip. 

“I can’t wait anymore,” I finally choke out and wedge her leg between my thighs while grabbing the chain of the clamps and pulling _hard_ as I descend down to between her legs. 

Let me just say, I can _somewhat_ empathize with males now. The poor creatures have the stereotype of being a handful of pumps-chumps, but I don’t fare much better during our third session and neither does Harley. 

We’re both gasping and sweat drenched against each other not too long after I travel south. Her leg is a firm but wonderful reminder of what she has done for me since sometimes the sessions leave me to get creative with my own release, and I hadn’t really stood a chance of lasting from the second I tasted her on my tongue. 

“Fucking hell, Ive,” she pants above me. 

“Too much?” I mutter, glued to her with my face. I feel her squirm and remember she’s still tied up. 

Settling for running one of her feet up the back of my calf, she does her own version of cuddling on the comedown. The only one she’s capable of at the moment. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” she says dreamily, sleep latching onto her words. 

I manage to unstick myself from atop her mound and head back up her body. By the time I reach her, her eyes have already fluttered shut. Undoing her from the headboard, I remove the rope from her wrists and throw it to the ground. 

Hovering over her drifting away form, my heart lurches in my chest as I stare at her features. 

_Goddamnit, Ivy_ , I have to tell myself. _Stop falling in love._


	4. Round 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This round takes place after "Harley Quinn Highway." I mean, just imagine Ivy getting to take some of her aggression out back then.

_ Round 4:  _

She’s really fucking angry the fourth time we meet. Which was my fault but still!

I’d gotten a crew so I could stop pestering her to be my partner in actual crime, (what we were doing behind closed doors was already probably illegal in a bunch of states (the southern ones, let's be real) anyway) I got a whole highway named after me, I’d killed a few baddies. 

Plus did I mention I was fucking Ivy during all of that? Anyway, we had sort of kissed and made up verbally, but I could tell she was harboring some pent up aggression she could only take out on me in the bedroom. 

Just the look in her eyes alone as she would stalk by me had me practicing our safe word every second I wasn’t around her. Which, in a really screwed up way, sort of excited me too. 

Not that I liked to get hurt or beat up or anything. But imagining what Ivy could be cooking up to make herself feel better toward me was driving me insane. So much so, I’d zoned out thinkin’ about it when she’d come to stand in front of me, roughly throwing down something on top of the table. 

“Uh, da fuck is this?” I had pointed. 

“Just because we aren’t in our roles right now doesn’t mean I can’t wish you’d gain a little respect where I’m concerned,” Ivy growled.

Ivy could basically order me around day or night by that point and I’d be asking her how far and high to jump. But I needed some semblance of control instead of flopping around belly-up, so I’d gone back to my rather annoying and chaotic self. (couldn't change the game  _ too _ much) 

“Doesn’t answer the question,” I’d shrugged. She’d groaned her classic throaty one of exasperation mixed with ire. 

“I want you to wear that and be at my door right on time, not a second late. Don’t bring the robe. We don’t have time for that,” she’d told me lowly. 

My jaw dropped and we held intense gazes for a few moments before she turned her burning green eyes away and stalked off into the other room. I sat in stunned silence for a few seconds before curiosity got the better of me and I reached for the box she’d thrown on the table. 

Pulling back the tissue paper, I’d gasped, the smear of red and black everywhere in my vision.  _ Geez,  _ _ Ive _ _. _

How many times can someone have a little death before they get taken out completely? I wasn’t so sure, but Ivy was testing out that theory. 

************

There was no greeting after I knocked on the door. I was instantly being propelled forward by my collar and roughly shoved against the door. 

“You remember your safe word?” Ivy grunted. 

“Am I gonna need it?” I’d managed to choke out. 

“Pretty fuckin’ likely,” was her answer. 

But even though I could feel the anger just below the surface of her words, I wasn’t afraid. I knew the second I said something, the second it became too much, Ivy would stop immediately. It was that trust that we had discussed at the very beginning. 

Before I knew it, I had fuzzy lined cuffs attached to a bar on both my feet and my hands. Ivy roughly adjusted the spreader bar to give me some semblance of pain and pleasure together, nothing over the top...yet. 

My arms were stretched a good bit since they were attached to the bar on my ankles. I had to strain my back and shoulders any time Ivy moved the bar across my feet which caused my body to feel the burn in other places too. 

Everything had happened so fast, I hadn’t even had a chance to process what we had both chosen to wear for the night. 

Both were a variation on our themes really, mine in the same black and red color palette. The new top had sleeves like Ivy’s first outfit, tight leather ones that connected to a slightly collared area at my neck. And really, little else. The box had also contained a thick red belt with a lot of intricate ties, but she’d not bought any bottoms to go with the semi-jacket and belt for me.

As for her, she’d answered the door in at least a one inch black spiked heel. A tight fitting green dress with lace covering the chest hugged her form and a black jacket-like piece was atop it, buckled across her midsection. The bottom flared out into strips of fabric that swished with every move of her legs.

Ivy was on her knees and holding the bar in her hands as I laid back on the bed. She raised an eyebrow at me and then used her free hand not holding the bar to shove her skirt aside and the thin scrap of her panties down to mid thigh. Maneuvering the bar, she brought my right foot to touch her bare body beneath the strips of the skirt, moving it up and down. After a few seconds, I caught on and started to lend the aid of my toes and pad of my foot. 

Watching her use me that way was the most erotic thing I’d experienced in my life thus far. She wasn’t even touching me really, more  _ me _ touching her, and I felt sheer physical agony at not being able to get what she was making me give her. 

I could do nothing but stare as her body shuddered, a barely there sigh pushing its way out of her lips with her eyes slammed shut. They opened a split second later and were feral again. I was being  dragged by my ankles to the edge of my bed and lifted to the floor. 

Ivy barely even looked at me and she laid me on the ground and turned to the side, holding up her hand and doing a quick flick of her wrist. I watched as vines started to slither and wrap around the bar then lifted me up to be suspended. 

I yelled, actually out loud screamed. The jerking motion of the vines made every muscle in my body strain against the bar and cuffs. When she could see I wasn’t going to blurt out the safe word, I watched her peel off a sheer stocking and come to me, shoving it in my mouth. 

Going to her bedside nightstand, she withdrew a vibrating wand from inside and rounded the edge of the bed, sitting down on the end of it and spreading her legs. 

I had to watch the whole thing, helpless. Able to do nothing. I had to see Ivy get herself off and not be able to touch her or say a single word because of her stocking crammed in my mouth. (Even though it sort of tasted like her perfume...which was nice)

At some point, the blood was no longer pooling in my head and back to my other parts. Mercifully, she let her vines deposit me back on a solid surface but took me on the ground with my hands and feet in the air, stocking still shoved in my mouth and her relentless against me. 

With every flick of her wrist, every plunge of her fingers, I felt myself cracking. Being pushed at breakneck speed toward something that I’d wanted to hold off on for as long as I could. With a delicate curl from her, I’d lost that battle. 

Moving me to lay on my side after, she’d leaned over my hip and shoulder, bit into the leather sleeve, and made me yelp. I knew there would be a mark. 

“Don’t ever ditch me again,” Ivy warned. I tried not to let tears form, thinking about how close she’d come to dying under Scarecrow’s clutches. 

Little did I know she actually would before we got to be together again. 


	5. Round 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where everything almost comes out in the open

_ Round 5:  _

A lot happens before her and I get to time five. Like me actually, physically dying and staying that way for a little while. But somehow, Harley brings me back. She works her magic while at the same time turning the entire fucking city upside down. 

You’d think the first thing we would have returned to once I had, well, returned, would be our sessions. But I knew some things had changed and even death couldn’t take off the stinging reminder of how rough I’d been the last time we had been together. 

But I had been mad. Furious, angry, upset. More than just about Harley abandoning me to hang out with her douche of an ex. More than because she had done it while we had our sessions going on. I had too many emotions toward her, for her, than I knew what to do with and they were eating away at me with every breath I took. 

I lose my ability to keep things as just friendly between us after we come back from taking down the Riddler on campus. While I’d needed the distraction of stepping out of myself for a while, our ‘costumed’ identities only served as a reminder of the different ones we had worn both forever and yesterday ago. 

Walking back up the stairs from the giant hamster wheel on the ground level, I gather enough courage to bring up what I’ve been thinking about since we hugged after I’d come back to the land of the living. 

“So I was thinking…” I trail off, suddenly apprehensive to bring up our prior arrangement.  _ What if she’s changed her mind? What if I scared her off last time? _ But she hadn’t said the safe word. But then again, I hadn’t given her much of a chance to either. 

She stops and turns her pale eyes onto me. “ Ive , hey, what’s up?” It’s sincere, concern etching her features. There’s a hand on my shoulder I was only dimly aware of. 

“I’ve still got a lot of adrenaline pumping from taking down the Riddler and everything. College was weird and crazy and I’m just feeling wired still, so I thought maybe since we haven’t had a session since I’ve been, well, back, we could maybe try one in a little bit?” 

It’s amazing how much of a lame dork I turn into when I’m not inside of my bedroom, how much my insecurities present themselves, and become hard to tamp down. To settle all of this, I reach out and gently touch the collar on her throat. 

“I mean, what do you have in mind? We haven’t talked about this in a while. We haven’t ordered any new outfits or anything, no new toys,” Harley asks quietly. 

I shiver. “Wear this,” I motion at what she’s dressed in, her halter and tiny shorts. “But bring that new jacket you got. I...like it.”

What I don’t mention is that I’ve still got a few things left in the duffle that I’d snatched eons ago. One item in particular has remained at the bottom. My confidence has been built up, sure, but not enough to use it before. I still don’t know if it is, but tonight? Tonight I’m going to try. 

“Sounds real fun,” Harley says with a glint in her eye. 

I rub the back of my neck with my hand. “Are you still sure about this? It has been a while and I just want to make sure you…”

I don’t get to say the rest because she’s wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me into a kiss. We stand for a few quiet moments, lips pressed together in a gentle glide, and making our way back to each other. 

“I never doubt you, Ivy. Ever,” Harley murmurs against my lips. “I still want to play.”

Sue me, I’m human (well mostly) because I let out a groan and close my eyes, bringing a hand to lightly hold on to her blue dipped pigtail. 

“Leave these up this time,” I find myself demanding. A gasp flutters between us. 

***************

I’m shaky as fuck before she shows up. This time I haven’t gone for an outfit, resorting to my green silky robe and the thing I’ve been avoiding strapped around my hips. 

It’s a little bulky, something I don’t know how to use, but I push back my concerns and knot my robe tightly over it to strangle out second thoughts. My wedge heels are beginning to feel uncomfortable too by the time I hear her knock. 

When I pull open the door, she looks essentially like she always does, except with the addition of the red and black jacket with the stars on the sleeves. Well, that and a mysterious thin chain running from under her halter and jacket to below the line of her shorts.

“Harley?” I question and reach out to touch it. She slaps my hand away lightly but I glare. 

“I’m not in your room so you don’t get to boss me around quite yet,” she grins naughtily. 

A rogue flare ignites. “Let’s remedy that then,” I shoot back and take her hand, pulling her inside. When she goes to toe off her sneakers, I still her and shake my head. “No, leave those and the stockings on too.”

“Jesus,  Ive . What are you planning?”

I reach out and grab her by her collar, curling a finger beneath the strip and moving her to within inches of my face. “Excuse me? How should I be addressed?” 

“Shit, sorry, my Mistress,” she curses but then bats her eyes playfully. It burrows to my groin. 

“It’s fine,” I dismiss and let go of her collar, instead wrapping my hand around the lapel of her jacket and taking her to my dresser that I’d moved to the mall after she and her crew got us evicted from my last one. I put her palms on the dresser and tell her not to move. “I’ll just find a creative way to make sure you never do it again. And get to watch it in person and in this.” I point to the mirror. 

I kick her ankles widely apart, taking a few moments to run my hand along her bare thighs and up to her stomach. My fingers find the chain and I squint, wondering what this little sneak has taken it upon herself to do. I choose to ignore it and step to the side, unknotting my robe and letting it fall open, leaving me standing with the device exposed. 

_ Device, Ivy? It’s a harness vibe. Get it together.  _

So, there’s that then. Yeah…

The thing is, I’d picked this one off of the shelf even though it’s pink because I don’t exactly love the shape of...dicks. Nor did I relish in the idea of wearing one. This one seemed a little more work, sure, but the straps around my hips are thin and identical ones wrap around each leg. 

Harley seems to enjoy the look of it though because she yelps out an adorably hot “Mistress” when she sees me through the reflection in the mirror. I saunter behind her and press my bare chest against her clothed back, rubbing at her bottom. She’s got to feel everything even though the layers. 

I move her hands so that she can stand and slowly pull down the cups of her halter. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I breathe out when I see the metal clamps pinching her nipples to peaks. That means the chain that’s connected to the other one… “Harley, where does this lead?” 

It comes out hot, breathy. Without thinking, I bypass touching her nipples and grab at the chain on her torso. Instead of tugging downward, I pull up and feel resistance down below. Her hips buck wildly and I have my answer. The other is clamped to her beneath her shorts. 

“You didn’t ask my permission,” I grind out through gritted teeth but I’m anything but mad. I’m so turned on I can barely stand it. She doesn’t need to know that though. 

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Harley practically sobs as I tug at it again. “I saw it and just knew I had to get it. When you used the one on me before, it felt fucking amazing and I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Strike two.” Twice the punishment. I roll my shoulders to steel myself and remove her jacket, tossing it to the floor. It’s a nice aesthetic. I’m about to destroy her though. 

Bending, I pick up the sash to my robe and bind her hands behind her. She gasps with each lace and knot I make. Her hands are clenched into fists and her chest heaves, the clamps dancing on her nipples with each breath. I don’t even bother with the top anymore, but shove down her small shorts to her knees and then trace the curve of her bottom with my hand before giving it a squeeze. 

“Amazing,” I let out. Usually, I don’t comment or put my two cents in about anything but tonight feels different. 

_ It’s because you’re in love with her, dumbass _ , my brain tells me. 

I can’t listen to it or my mouth about to make the effort it’s going to have to for both of us to reach the edge, so I tell the Echo dot to play a song. The words will say what my heart feels, what I cannot. I hope she listens to them. 

_ You bring good to my lonely life, honestly _

_ It's hard for me to look into your eyes _

_ When, I say that I would be nothing without your love _

_ I feel the rush and it's amazing _

During this part, I bring a wedged heel up and push her shorts down the rest of the way with my foot, my hand wrapping around the chain on her and pulling it outward now, stimulating both areas on her. 

Harley’s chin is pressed hard on the wood of my dresser but she looks up and back at me behind her and my hips begin to move, the vibe beginning against us. 

_ Maybe I've been always destined to end up in this place, yeah _

_ I don't mean to come off selfish, but I want it all _

_ Love will always be a lesson, let's get out of its way _

_ Cause I know, all I know, all I know _

_ I'm a prisoner to my addiction _

By this point, her cheek is on the dresser and I’m grinding in earnest against the wet pink of her, her bound hands held in mine as I move. And everything we’ve done so far? It doesn’t even come close to this. This is in another realm, an alternate universe I’ve never even touched. 

I try to watch us in the mirror for as long as I can, me moving against her as I hold the rope around her hands with one of mine and the chain attached to her in my other. I just...can’t. I can’t keep my eyes open and I throw my head back, reduced to the feel of her and I connecting with every swivel of my hips. 

The vibrations stimulating us both, how I can feel her most intimate of places when I buck a certain way, the sensations of my sweating hands wrapped around metal and silk, the damn lyrics to the song I probably never should have played in the first place...it’s all too much. Much too much. I’ve outdone myself and I can’t hold on. 

_ Cause I can feel my soul burning, feel it burning slow _

_ But I would be nothing without the touch _

_ I feel the rush and it's amazing _

I’m gone. 

Soaring, falling, sinking, drowning. Whatever the verb, my goddamn vision blurs and the static forms on my closed eyes. It lasts  _ forever _ ...like I might just keep on coming until my body gives up on me. 

I’m so spent that I hardly register Harley crying out in her own wave of pleasure, so I don’t move my hips away from her. It’s too much for her too and I feel the effects of it start to slick against the upper part of my thigh. Soon, she’s writhing against me and sobbing, “Mallet!” 

I back away instantly, like I’ve been shocked and she still mutters it blearily. I lean my bare chest on her back after a few seconds of heavy breathing, pressing my face against her shoulder blade and my right hand lets go of the chain and rotates to press against her abs. They heave underneath my fingers. 

“Mistress, I…”

“...Harley, I…”

We both speak at the same time, cutting one another off. Somehow, we have enough energy to laugh against each other. Somehow, I move and let her stand up straight, undoing her hands. 

“You were saying?” she asks as she removes the clamps from her nipples and from below, readjusting the cups of her halter. 

_I was about to tell you I love you._ _But wait, what were you…?_

I watch her throw the chain on top of my dresser and I gulp. I start to stammer. “Uh, well...I was just going to say that...even though I didn’t think of it, that was a nice touch.” I nod to the dresser but get frustrated with myself. My heart kicks me in the chest for not saying what it told me to. 

“I don’t have a doctorate for nothing, Mistress,” Harley kisses me slowly and then lets go, picking up her bottoms from the floor. 

I watch her walk out bare assed, heedless of who she might encounter, with her fucking shorts in her hand. I close my door and slide down it, burying my hands in my red hair. 

I’ve screwed up so badly. Before, I’d only suspected I had fallen for her. After tonight, I undoubtedly know it.


	6. +1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets come out. The truth sets them free.

I was in love with Ivy. It was something I couldn’t ignore anymore. After the last session though, things had started to feel even tenser, even more strange. 

Watching Fries sacrifice himself for his wife, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I was in love with my best friend. I was head over heels for Ive. 

Being in the pit made it absolutely unbearable. Before I screwed everything up in Gotham, I had my own thing that kept us apart long enough to get some space from what was going on between us. The pit only amplified it. 

She was morose and I was too. If we died down there, there would never be any more sessions. I’d never get to be with her like that again because there would always be someone around. I’d have to let that part of us go. 

But she’s fuckin’ brilliant and got us out. Not before some shit though. Not before I let go in a free fall so that she could go on and live. But she saved me, saved us, and suddenly she was on top of me again under a sky full of stars, kissing me hungrily and pawing at our shitty prison pit clothes. 

I’d have agreed to anything right there, but she’d stopped it. “Harls, I...I want to do this right.” What the  _ this _ was, I didn’t know. (I should have asked, I  _ should _ have) She’d lifted me up from the ground, my friend, my domme, my savior. “Let’s go home.”

And that’s what sent us into the last session before the split. The before and after. 

“I’m going to get cleaned up. Do the same and then meet me in my room?” she’d asked without looking at me, staring out across the mall as we’d walked through the double metal doors. 

“What should I…”

“Just—be naked on my bed. That’s it,” Ivy told me. 

“Naked?” I asked, confused. No outfits, nothing added?

She hadn’t answered and disappeared, leaving me standing alone with a thousand thoughts trampling my mind. 

******************

Ivy knows Harley is waiting on her bed before she even opens her bathroom door. She presses a hand against it and sighs, not really sure with what she’s about to do. She doesn’t want to do anything wrong but at the same time, she’s not exactly feeling domineering either. 

She’d picked up the rope they’d used the third time but that was all. Walking out with it behind her back, Ivy bit her lip and stood in the doorway. Admiring Harley’s beautiful body, nothing covering it. 

For her, she’d opted for a long shirt, much in the style of a man’s but made of smoother material. Green, of course, and nothing underneath. It parts in the middle, buttons undone and shows a strip of her chest, abdomen, and everything below.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Ivy tries for wistful amusement. 

She can hear the other part in her voice too, the part that knows what she will have to do a better job of hiding.

“So how do you want me tonight? We playin’ with your vines again? Or maybe some other types of toys?” Harley asks. 

_ Excitement _ , Ivy thinks.  _ But I don’t want her any other way than a version of simple tonight.  _

“Uh, I thought we might just go back to this,” Ivy says uncertainly, worried because the frills are essentially gone. But then an idea surfaces from the deep and she motions for Harley to get on her knees. “Sit up.”

Months ago when she’d started her research, she’d spent a very long but eventful day enraptured in bonding techniques known as  shibari . This will be sensual if she can get it right but also another erotic part of the BDSM fantasies they’ve been living out. 

Harley’s hands are easiest to start with, so Ivy begins winding the rope around her wrists. From there, she wraps around her waist. Connecting up, Ivy goes under each of Harley’s breasts and loops it around her neck. From there, back down to her hips and between each leg to rest just beside the apex of her thighs. She ends it at Harley’s hip with just enough left for her own hand to wrap around. 

“Mistress,” Harley pants out when it’s done. 

“Lay down, Harley,” Ivy commands softly and covers her as soon as she does, kissing her best friend, her lover. The absolute love of her life. 

Ivy is gentle then, slow. It’s unlike anything they’ve done  _ again _ but already it’s her favorite. When she’s behind her, she nibbles at Harley’s pale shoulder while another arm is wrapped loosely around her neck. When she’s on top of her, she presses her fingers into her cheek and glides down it. 

No matter the position, Ivy never strays a hand from between Harley’s legs, the constant but measured movement of it wanting to draw it out for as long as she can. 

A cracked and crumbling “please,” sets Ivy to new purpose, has her fingers skating across slick heat until wonderful sounds are drawn from Harley’s throat. When it’s over, the sound of Harley still ringing in her ears and reverberating in her chest, Ivy undoes the bindings. 

“Your turn, Mistress,” Harley smiles against her and nibbles at her ear. Bites the lobe of it.

But already Ivy is far away, unreachable. She pulls back from Harley and shakes her head. The hurt begins to wash over Harley’s features, but Ivy knows she never should have let it get this far. She knows what she’s just done with her friend. 

“Harls, I can’t keep doing this,” Ivy picks up her long shirt and shrugs it back on, rubbing between her eyes. 

“What, why?” Harley is confused. She sits on her haunches and her face holds more fear than Ivy can bear. 

“I just can’t anymore, okay? All of this is a lot. A lot a lot and…”

“Ivy, you’ve literally done things to me no other person on earth has. I’ve submitted to you, trusted you. This collar you put around my neck?” Ivy hears the desperation in her voice. “It makes me yours.”

“But that’s just it! You aren’t mine! Not like I want you to be!” Ivy spins on her and shouts. Harley looks shocked and Ivy’s face falls. “I can’t keep doing this with you because it’s not just a session anymore.” Her own desperation mangles her words.  _ Just say it... _

“Harley, I’m in love with you” finally hits the air. 

...which then all seems to leave the room. Ivy tries to finish but ends up letting her eyes fill with tears before she can. “I didn’t do a session with you tonight. We weren’t just having sex to me. I was making love to you, Harley. I think I knew I was going to when I walked out of the bathroom. Shit, before that even. I should have just been honest and told you. I’m so sorry.”

Ivy watches Harley stand and walk to within a foot of where she is, distraught. “I really wanted to have this conversation with you when I was fully clothed, or at least more dressed than I am,” she laughs. 

“What?” Ivy frowns. 

Harley parts Ivy’s shirt, wraps a hand around her hip and her neck. Rests her cheek on Ivy’s chest. “I’ve felt the same way since session three.”

It should feel like a bomb but to Ivy, it’s a sweet type of release. She’s a feather now, gliding along on the air. A wisp of a cloud floating. She closes her eyes and hides her nose in Harley’s blonde locks. 

“We’re idiots,” Ivy laughs out, but there’s a watery aspect to it because of the tears and emotions clogging her throat. 

“But  Ive , honey. We belong together,” Harley holds her face and stares at her deeply. 

And it’s written there in Harley’s features, the story of them easy to see. Penned with friendship and trust and pain and pleasure. Scribed from whisper and yell and pant and sigh. Harley’s arms are an envelope. Ivy presses them together by their lips for a seal. 

Somewhere during the push of their mouths, the meeting of their tongues searching for taste, Harley lays Ivy on the bed, proceeds to give her the world. 

Oh, how Ivy smiles. She can’t keep it off her fucking face. Neither can Harley, who does just as much of it herself. Not once does Ivy have to stifle the ‘I love you’ that spills from her lips. Not a singular time does Harley fail to meet it. 

************

“You know, you don’t have to keep wearing it since you’re my girlfriend,” Ivy glances up from her salad at Chez Feline. 

Harley knows what she’s referring to. Her hand goes to her throat, runs over the collar she’s hardly taken off in two years. “Yeah, well, it’s sort of become my thing now. My signature look.” She shrugs. 

Ivy leans over to whisper. “Which, don’t get me wrong, is fine and honestly, still  _ so _ fucking hot because of its original meaning but like...you could maybe change it up or something?” 

Now Harley leans in too. She moves in to kiss Ivy in front of everyone, her lips soft and happy-sigh inducing. When she backs away from Ivy, there’s a small box sitting on the table near their hands. Ivy’s eyes are wide. 

“Alright, let's change it up then,” Harley agrees and opens the box. “The term girlfriend isn’t quite doing it for me anymore.”

Harley smirks and Ivy? Ivy free falls into more happiness than she thinks her body can contain. 

_ Yes _ has never been so sweet inside of her mouth as when she says it now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who have always left me great feedback on this since the beginning. It's one of the things that makes writing worthwhile and I am forever grateful for all of your kind words.


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